


Beneath the Stars Came Falling on Our Heads

by anthologia



Series: Earth 3 [3]
Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Angst, Earth-3, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Restraints, Self-Mutilation, mostly the hurt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-21
Updated: 2015-12-21
Packaged: 2018-05-08 01:53:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5478917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anthologia/pseuds/anthologia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If she called one of them now, Thomas or Dick or Barbara, it would be a weakness. And maybe they’d help her or maybe they’d decide this should be a learning experience – either way, it wouldn’t be pleasant. </p>
<p>The Hood wouldn’t use this as a weapon against her. He might – it might have consequences down the line but right now she can’t reason that far into the future. He won’t hurt her now, and that’s enough.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beneath the Stars Came Falling on Our Heads

**Author's Note:**

> Another Earth-3 Tim/Jason. This one takes place before "A Sunset Couldn't Save Me Now" and may or may not be part of what made Jason snap and decide it was time to get her out with or without her cooperation.
> 
> Song title from "Samson" by Regina Spektor. Written for a tumblr prompt: Earth-3 Tim & Jason, “What happened doesn’t change anything.”

The family isn’t… they won’t be pleased with her. Because – _because_ , there’s static in her head and she shouldn’t have – she should have _known_. If she called one of them now, Thomas or Dick or Barbara, it would be a _weakness_. And maybe they’d help her or maybe they’d decide this should be a learning experience – either way, it wouldn’t be pleasant. A distress call would pretty much guarantee one of them synthesizing the compound in her bloodstream and subjecting her to it again, until she either developed a resistance or figured out some way to work past it.

They’ll know _anyway_. She can’t hide what happened forever. But she can’t think about that right now, just – can’t _think_.

The Hood wouldn’t use this as a weapon against her. He might – it might have _consequences_ down the line but right now she can’t reason that far into the future. He won’t hurt her _now_ , and that’s enough. She digs out the secure line he left her, _just in case_.

Time… passes. She’s not sure how much. _Enough_. There’s a hand on her shoulder, and she lashes out.

Jason swears and pins her down. “It’s me! Christ, it’s _me_ , Tim.” She goes limp, and he hauls her semi-upright and checks her pupils. “Fuck, what are you _on_?”

“Don’t know,” she grits out. Isley is nothing if not _creative,_ with a vicious edge.

He pulls the sleeve of the Talon suit up, maybe looking for an injection site, and swears again. “The fuck did you do to your arm?”

She hadn’t even _felt_ it, but it’s practically dripping with blood from gashes that are just about the right size for the claws on the end of the Talon gloves. “I don’t remember.”

“Okay. Okay, Christ, I got a safe house, we’ll go there and bandage that up,” he says – maybe more to himself than to her. Jason hoists her in the air, and she’s… dizzy, she doesn’t – she loses _track_.

Her throat hurts. There’s pressure on her wrists – they’re tied down, and her experimental tug on them tells her that the restraints are sturdy. She takes a deep breath to get ready, because she knows how to get out of them but it’s going to _hurt_.

“Shit, _no_.” In what feels like the space of just one heartbeat to the next, Jason is on her, holding her down. “You’re okay, Babybird. You’re just detoxing. I had to strap you down to keep you from hurting yourself or ripping the IV out. You’re _safe_.”

She’s not. Not _ever_ , really, but she untenses slightly, willing to accept that she’s not in danger for the moment. “What,” she croaks out.

“Try to give your voice a rest, okay? You’ve been doing a lot of screaming lately,” he says, in a weird, flat tone.

“How long has it been?” she asks anyway.

“I don’t know.” He eases the pressure off her by increments, like he’s still worried she might try to escape. “About – a day, maybe?”

The words kick her awake like a shot of adrenaline to the heart. If she’s been missing for over 24 hours, then the Owls _know_. Someone’s going to be _looking_ for her.

“Trackers don’t work in here,” Jason says, like he was listening to her thoughts, or, or maybe she’s just vocalizing without realizing. “Signal’s blocked; didn’t even have to remove them. Though you did a pretty good job of ripping the one in your arm out by yourself.”

“I have to go.”

“No. You _don’t_.” He grabs her face and forces her to look at him. “No one knows where you are right now, Tim. I can keep the trackers scrambled long enough to surgically remove them. _You don’t have to go back to them_.”

She doesn’t bother to dignify that with an answer, just stares at him steadily until he throws his arms up in frustration.

“ _Why?!_ What the _fuck_ do you get out of them?”

She purses her lips. He wouldn’t understand, even if she could explain. “I appreciate you coming to get me, but _this_ ,” and she nods briefly towards the room, _“_ doesn’t change anything.”

His hands curl into fists, and for a second, she half-expects him to punch her. “ _Fine_ ,” he says instead. “What-the-fuck- _ever_. You want to spend your time following their orders and getting half-killed for even the tiniest fuck-up, be my guest. I’m done.”

He’s not, and they both know it. If she called for help again, he’d come running. She knows because he’s _Jason_ , and because even though he’s pissed, he still takes the time to undo one of the wrist-restraints before leaving the safe house so she doesn’t hurt herself escaping them. And in return, she waits an extra ten minutes beyond the time it should take him to clear the area before she starts heading back to the Roost.

**Author's Note:**

> If you are interested in my fics and want more, I have an account at syntactition.tumblr.com where I have bits of stories that are currently in the works and other ficlets and stories that haven't made their way to AO3.


End file.
